Falling in Love in Seven Kisses
by storytellers
Summary: Two gentle souls discover each other in a world that is not always so gentle. This is a Basil/Sybil story and i can't for the world of me understand why there aren't more. You really must read it, even if only out of curiosity. Movie-based.


Disclaimer: 'The Picture of Dorian Gray' belongs to Oscar Wilde and the movie 'Dorian Gray' belongs to Momentum pictures. I am not a dead literary genius, nor am I a movie studio so you can guess I can't claim to own either. I am also not making any profit.

**Author's Note: **Seriously, how come I have never seen these two together in fan fiction? It seems a rather obvious pairing to me with them having so much in common. I mean come on, they are both artists, both gentle, both suffer at Dorian's hand… Yes, okay, I know I'll hear the 'Basil is gay' argument but the fact of the matter is that we have never been told that he is EXCLUSIVELY gay and, obviously, in this story he isn't.

Once again, this is movie-based because I rather dislike Sybil in the novel and, well, I just prefer the movie, story wise, even if Oscar's writing is far more brilliant.

**Warnings:**

Heterosexual relationship. If this offends you, don't read ;P.

Mild sexuality, not enough to earn an M rating.

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**Falling in Love in Seven Kisses**

_**One**_

The first time he kissed her out of necessity.

She lay motionless on the ground after he had pulled her out of the cold waters of the Themes. He could feel the warmth that sill lingered beneath her skin receding. When her chest remained still, her lungs filled with water, he lowered his lips to hers so he could breathe for her.

He had taken her from the cold depths, wondering what could cause such a young, beautiful creature to take this plunge into nothingness. Only later did he learn that it was not merely a whim of fate that had brought them both to this place that night.

Or if it was, their shared fate had a name and it was Dorian Gray.

It was because of Dorian that Basil Hallward had been walking alone along the dark river, trying to come to terms with an engagement that meant to him a lifetime of unrequited love.

And because of Dorian, Sybil Vane had chosen to end her life rather than face the rejection and ruin of herself and her future child.

It seemed that Dorian Gray had nearly killed her and simultaneously brought Basil there to save her. This strange mixture of luck and misfortune seemed oddly fitting, like the constantly changing faces of the man himself. Innocence and cruelty, tenderness and harshness, life and…

Basil's heart leapt when the girl suddenly convulsed and coughed up the water she had inhaled.

Death, and perhaps the Devil himself, were cheated of their victory that day with a kiss.

_**Two**_

The second time he found himself in an old armchair in her mother's living room while she sat on the floor in front of him and pressed her flower-petal lips to his hands in silent gratitude, calling him her savior.

She had almost been doomed by two men who were supposed to love and protect her. Both Dorian and her brother seemed determined to make the already hard situation impossible.

Dorian had been terrified when he had learned of the river accident. He was torn between guilt and self-preservation. Henry advised him to deny having anything to do with the matter. Basil beseeched him to take responsibility and marry Sybil. The painter might have succeeded in his efforts but then James Vane had proclaimed that he would kill Dorian Gray if he ever came near his sister again. That had been the perfect excuse for Dorian to withdraw and refuse to acknowledge his child.

Basil had pleaded with them both until it was clear that neither would budge and then he had been left without a choice but the one which had led him here. He had sensed Sybil sink into hopelessness and he had feared for her life and sanity, not to mention the future of her unborn child. She had refused to dispose of it despite her mother's insistence and had proclaimed that if her child was to die, then so would she. He had not saved her just to watch her slip away bit by bit!

Before meeting her, he had hated her. Hated her for stealing Dorian from him. He had imagined some cheap, heavily painted actress who had seduced his friend for his money. Now he felt terribly guilty for judging her only out of spite. She was just like him – entranced, enamored by Dorian's appearance and nature. And just like him she was pushed aside and neglected. Only for her it was worse. She was a woman and therefore essentially helpless in a men's society. Basil could not bring himself to abandon her. He had become a frequent visitor at their house, enquiring after her health, afraid that she might do something irrational again. She looked at him with the same trust Dorian had placed in him before meeting Henry. It touched him to the bottom of his heart.

She was now in her second month of pregnancy and if something was not done soon, all would be lost. She would be branded a whore, scorned by society and the same fate would befall the baby. He could not let it happen and there was only one thing left to do.

Her mother and brother had stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief when he had proposed marriage. But he had given the matter much thought and he was certain this was the only way out. If Dorian would not take responsibility, then he would do it for him. He would be saving his friend's soul from the stain of completely ruining someone's life and he would be saving Sybil and her future son or daughter. After all, was it too much of a sacrifice for the life of a child? He didn't have anyone else he wanted to be with, except for a person who was completely unreachable. He could see himself being alone for the rest of his life so why not help this innocent young girl instead? It would hurt him to be part of a loveless marriage, it would be like proving Harry's philosophy, but the alternative was much worse.

When he had asked her, he had done his best to make it not sound like charity or business. He had repeated again and again that she deserved better than what fate had dealt her, that he would take care of her and her child, that they would have a home and a future. Tears had rolled down her cheeks, glistening in the dirty light of a neighborhood where even the sun seemed second-rate. When he had run out of words, she had thrown herself at his feet and gathered his hands in hers to kiss them. He had sat down and shut his eyes, barely able to stand the weight of the gesture. By placing her lips on his hands, she was placing her very life in them. He vowed to protect it.

_**Three**_

The next time they kissed, they were man and wife.

Their wedding day was a strange affair. It was a masquerade of the worst kind. His high society friends had come, either out of curiosity or because they had more faith in his judgment than they would have had in Dorian's, had he been the one to marry beneath his birth. Basil rather thought it was the former, even if he wanted to believe the latter.

Dorian and Henry Wotton were there as well, congratulating him as if nothing was out of place.

"I know you are fond of charity but really, Basil, this is excessive!" Lord Henry had muttered in his ear while shaking his hand.

"Not another word, Harry, I will not forgive you," he had hissed back and his friend had taken the hint and pretended he hadn't said anything.

Everyone was pretending and Basil felt sick.

"Can you face them?" he had asked Sybil. "I understand it's hard but in this society appearances are important. You have to show them you love me if you want them to accept you."

"Don't worry," she had said. "I'm a good actress."

The coldness of the statement had stung him. Of course, he had known all along this was not a marriage for love. But he had thought he had a friend in her at least. Now he realized she couldn't help but hate him. He was her only choice but she hadn't wanted him and he could see how that his presence hard to bear.

Sybil caught sight of his expression and instantly regretted her words

"No, I meant…" she started but he only shook his head and exited the room.

He walked to the altar with a heavy heart, thinking of how it would feel to be bound to a girl who couldn't stand him. He went through the ceremony as if he was in a trance, until he was finally told he could kiss the bride. This was the moment he had dreaded. She would flinch when he touched her, he knew it. Her whole body would betray her desire to push him away. And while he had never wanted her that way, knowing that she was repulsed by the idea of kissing him made him feel awful. Not wanting to torment her more than necessary, he barely touched the corner of her mouth with his lips. To his surprise, she tipped her head and kissed him back properly, before leaning to whisper in his ear.

"I'm so sorry for what I said earlier. I didn't mean it like that. It's them I resent, not you. I do care for you. We'll do our best to make each other happy.

She felt him relax and smiled. She held on to his hand while they received congratulations, very few of which were sincere. It didn't matter. She and he, they were of the same breed. She could trust him. Maybe it wasn't love but they would take care of each other.

_**Four**_

The fourth time was on their wedding night, after they had arrived at the house by the sea.

No one had expected them to actually have a honeymoon but Basil had stubbornly hired a house in a small beautiful town, if only to give Sybil a week to adjust.

He had left her to settle in the largest bedroom and had chosen a smaller one for himself.

The had had a quiet dinner, barely talking, mostly listening to the sound of the waves but feeling comfortable in each other's company.

It was late but he was still dressed when he heard the quiet knock on his door. She entered shyly, dressed in a pale blue nightgown. She took a few uncertain steps inside.

"Is anything the matter?" he asked, frowning.

She bit her lip and moved to sit on the bed beside him.

"You didn't have to take another room. I know you did it for me but you didn't have to. We are husband and wife. You have a right…"

She trailed off. He didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth but he couldn't seem to form a proper response. She moved a little closer and lifted her hand to caress his cheek. He caught it.

"Sybil, this is really unnecessary…"

He abruptly fell silent when he saw the rejection written on her face. She withdrew her hand and clutched it in her lap, her eyes starting to fill with tears.

"I should have known. I'm sorry. What man would want a woman like me?"

He was once again speechless. Was she really thinking…

"Sybil!"

He grabbed her hand as she tried to leave.

"No, please, sit down. It's nothing like that. I just… don't understand. I know you don't see me that way or if you do, you have never given any indication. You know I would never want to force you to share my bed. So why…"

She lifted her eyes to meet his and he saw something familiar there. Something he had seen in the mirror.

"I want to be free of him," she whispered. "Just this once. Only tonight. I want to be your wife, not just play the part. Because if I am not really your wife, then who am I? I still feel like one of Dorian's whores."

He stared at her for a long moment, mesmerized by the blue of her eyes, made more brilliant by the tears in them.

"So do I," he whispered back.

The blue orbs widened in surprised realization and he was momentarily afraid of her reaction. But then her gaze softened and he knew she understood.

He had never been able to erase that night – the masquerade at Dorian's house. He had gotten his first and last taste of the rich, intoxicating, destructive drug that was Dorian's body. The same night he had decided he could take it no more. That if he didn't get away, this obsession would kill him. He was a man of intellect and his mind and body were often the same thing. He could not live on pleasure without love. And he could hardly bear the guilt of kissing Dorian while the woman who carried his child was wasting away with sorrow. He had gone home and sat in the dark for hours while Dorian's lustful kisses were growing cold on his skin. It was then he had decided he had to marry Sybil Vane.

He had never again shared such intimacy with Dorian after that night but it was as if his touch could not be washed away. He saw now that Sybil felt much the same way. Dorian had been the last to touch them and it was as if he had branded them so no one else ever would. They both wanted someone to break the spell but they only had each other.

Perhaps it was out of desperation and not passion when he suddenly pulled her to him and kissed her. But then and there desperation served the same purpose. He laced his fingers into her hair as her small hands worked the buttons of his shirt. Their lips remained locked for a long time, as if to prevent the cold fingers of loneliness from sneaking between them, separating them and leaving them to fight on their own.

And when the taint had been washed from their skin, the lingering bitterness kissed away, it was not declarations of love that were whispered between them in the darkness but something that was in its own way stronger. Because 'I love you' was a state of mind but 'I won't desert you' was a promise. And they were both the kind that kept their promises.

"Thank you," she said before caressing his cheek one last time and going back to her room. Her voice and touch were lighter than before and as he closed his eyes, Basil felt that something had been lifted from his chest as well.

They slept without dreaming of Dorian that night.

_**Five**_

The fifth time was after his mother died, just two months after their wedding.

Sybil had only seen her once, when they had paid her a private visit. The old woman was not quite in her right mind. She had smiled serenely at her sons and her new daughter in law without really seeing them. Nevertheless, there had been a subtle gentleness in the air around her, much like the one Sybil had come to associate with her new husband.

She had been a proud and intelligent woman, Basil had told her, before she had been injured in a riding accident and lost her mind. Her husband had died very young and she had taken care of their child on her own. She had run the household with much courage, skill and good humor. Basil's successful career and the love with which he spoke of the woman were proof enough for Sybil that Angela Hallward had done a marvelous job despite the circumstances. And even as she watched the fragile old lady, she imagined she could still see some of that strength hidden beneath the cotton clutches of dementia. Rather than pity her, Sybil had admired her for what she had been.

Then roughly six weeks after that meeting, Angela had suffered a stroke and died before the doctors could save her.

Basil had not taken it well. He had initially tried to take care of everything, to organize the funeral, set legal matters right. But his resolve had run out quickly. On the evening of the second day he had locked himself in his studio, promising that he would only be a little while. When he had not come home the next day, Sybil had initially found herself at a loss. She had never seen him like this before. For all his softness, Basil had always been strong and reliable and she had automatically assumed he would be able to cope with anything. The sudden realization that he needed help both scared her and filled her with a sense of responsibility she had not felt before. Up to this point, she had always been a child, left in someone else's care, be it her mother, her brother, Dorian or Basil. She had never felt the power and the weight of having to make the decisions herself. Now she thought about Angela Hallward and a small but important change began to take place in her. A transition from a girl to woman. Getting up from the chair where she refused to sit wringing her hands all day, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

When Basil came home late that night, he found that everything had been arranged, up to the flowers surrounding the coffin. His wife was sitting quietly at the dresser in her bedroom, undoing her hair and taking off her make-up when he entered at her invitation. There was something different in her, although he was currently too distracted to put his finger on it. She turned from the mirror when he walked in.

"Welcome home."

"Thank you, I… Sybil, I am sorry. I should have never disappeared like this, I beg you to forgive me. You have done all the work that was mine to do and…"

She shook her head and held up a hand to stop him. She moved to sit on the bed and reached for him. He took her hands and sat next to her.

"It was my turn," she said simply. "It was about time I did something useful around here. I'm sorry it had to be for such a sad occasion. And if there is anything else I can do…"

He shook his head, rubbing his face with his hands. His eyes were misty with tears he refused to let fall. She looked at him with warmth she had not been aware she felt before.

She wondered if she was overstepping the boundaries of their unspoken contract, breaching the polite friendliness they had treated each other with after their only night together, but he didn't protest when she pulled him in her arms. She pressed her lips to his forehead. His skin felt warm, almost feverish. She remained quite still. She was afraid that if she moved, the moment would be broken and he would suddenly jump up, bid her goodnight and leave. Men were often so overprotective of their pride. She was tired of being the only one who ever looked vulnerable.

She waited for his breathing to even out before she closed her own eyes.

It was the first time they spent the night on the same bed.

_**Six**_

The sixth time was two months after she had lost the baby.

She had come down with influenza and the doctors had been unable to do anything to stop the abrupt termination of her pregnancy. After that, she had never quite recovered from her illness. The medics Basil hired shook their heads and shrugged their shoulders, declaring that there was nothing medicine could do to heal a broken heart. His wife had simply lost her will to live.

Sybil herself felt empty. Ever since she had first learned she was expecting, her life had revolved around the small creature inside her. For better or worse, her pregnancy had dictated everything and she could barely remember a time when it had not been so. So much had happened in these few short months that they felt like a lifetime. She had decided to live for her child, had married Basil for her child and her only plans for the future had had to do with her child. What was the point now?

She remembered her decision to be strong like her mother-in-law had been, to never be left at the mercy of others or at the caprices of fate again. For a while she had felt like she was on the road to becoming that kind of woman. But Angela had had her little boy to motivate her and Sybil was left with nothing. She didn't feel like she had the strength to push on. She could simply stay in her bed and slowly fade away.

She sometimes picked a book and stared at it without really comprehending the words. She barely ate. When Basil came to see her, she mostly pretended to be asleep.

On one such evening she heard the familiar knock on the door and snapped her eyelids shut. Her husband entered, quietly closing the door behind him and sat by the bed like he had done many times before. He would normally stay for a few minutes before leaving just as quietly.

But this time, after several moments, he spoke in a quiet, slightly choked voice.

"I wish there was something I could say that would make you want to live. I have tried for so long to find the right words but what would any words mean to you? I wish it were enough that I can no longer imagine the world without you. I wish you could understand that you are all that is good and right about my life and you saved me when we met as much as I saved you. I wish it meant as much to you as it does to me now. I never expected a play, an act to become more real to me than what I had perceived to be reality. I never expected to want you to come to me for comfort so I could tell you that there could be more children if you would allow it to be so. I never expected to fall in love with you, Sybil, and I never imagined I would be losing my wife just when I realized I had one.

I cannot save you this time. I can only beg you to save me because I'll be lost without you, my darling one."

He bent down and, as his lips brushed hers, something warm fell on her cheek.

Sybil held her breath until his quiet footsteps had left the room. Then she touched her cheek. Her fingers were damp when she withdrew them and her heart raced. She had never before seen him cry.

_**Seven**_

"Would you care to join your wife for a picnic? The weather is quite lovely today."

Basil spun around and stared, wondering if it was possible that he was hallucinating.

At the door of his studio stood Sybil in a blue dress and a shawl, her cheeks pink and healthy again, her red hair put up in an elegant but still youthful style. A picnic basket and a parasol were held in her hands.

"You were gone for three whole days, I thought it was time to come and get you," she said, as if this explained her sudden appearance at the studio after he had almost believed she would die any day. "After all, a woman should never leave her husband unsupervised for too long."

He blinked, quite taken aback by her cheerful mood.

"Sybil, are you… quite all right?"

"Oh dear, he thinks I have gone mad! Perhaps you are right, my sweet. So many poets have compared my current condition to madness. Shall I prove to you how completely out of my mind I am?"

She dropped the basket and the parasol and ran up to him and embraced him with such force that she successfully managed to leave him breathless. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her but he didn't quite know whether to laugh or frown. His expression settled into an uncertain smile as he searched her face, trying indeed to determine if she was quite right in the head.

"But you were… And now you seem… Sybil, I don't understand."

She laughed.

"Oh, it's really quite simple," she declared, standing on tiptoe so she was more level with him. "I love you too."

And with the seventh kiss she opened a door that led to a future with seven million more.

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**End Note:** Please review to let me know that someone is reading and also to tell me what you think of this pairing. Maybe it doesn't fly as easily as Basil/Dorian or the likes but I sometimes get tired of the traditional stuff and feel like trying something new. After all, Erik/Carlotta quickly became my favorite in the Phantom fandom. :) What do you have to say?


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